


balcony

by ThinkingCAPSLOCK



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Birthday Presents, Developing Relationship, Drabble, First Kiss, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 11:48:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11058315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThinkingCAPSLOCK/pseuds/ThinkingCAPSLOCK
Summary: The only thing missing from Akaashi's twentieth birthday is a gift from the person he wants one from the most.





	balcony

**Author's Note:**

> you ever just really wanna write something for your owltp? i do.

"So, how are you enjoying your super awesome twentieth birthday party?" Bokuto glides out onto the balcony, closing the sliding glass door behind him, trapping the music and laughter inside. Akaashi leans, half turned, on the railing, fingers laced, chilled in the December air. He twists them together to keep warm, his sweater tugged high against his neck. 

"It's great, Bokuto. You really outdid yourself this year." Bokuto gives a dramatic bow, arms sweeping to the side. Akaashi snorts, shaking his head, eyes flicking briefly back to the city before him. "Thank you for all this. I'm not even sure how you got everyone here. Hinata wasn't even in the country, and-"

"A true magician never reveals his secrets," Bokuto replies. He eases forwards, pointing to Akaashi's hands and gesturing towards himself. Akaashi turns, properly, back against the railing, hands out. Bokuto scoops them in his own, warmth spreading faster than it should into Akaashi's fingers, palms. Bokuto's grin never wavers once as his figure blocks the light from the apartment, framing the edges of his face and shoulders. "Anything missing? Any requests for next year?"

Akaashi hums, fingers curling into fists. Bokuto takes a moment to rub one hand, then the other, before he resumes his hand holding. There is an answer, and it comes to mind immediately - but he doesn't want Bokuto to know how quickly he thought of it, how he'd found a flaw in an otherwise perfect birthday. It seems selfish, and perhaps it is, but it feels a little less selfish to pretend it hasn't nagged at him for the past four hours.

"You didn't get me a gift, Bokuto," he says. He draws the words slowly, careful to avoid Bokuto's eyes, in case he had, and had forgotten. "I mean - you don't have to - but you've been bragging about your gift skills for weeks. I'm surprised."

"Ah, but you're wrong, 'Kaashi! I did get you a gift. I just haven't given you it yet. I was saving it." There's that little lilt in his tone of the response that makes Akaashi raise his eyebrows, glance up. It's definitely there: the mischief in the corner of his eyes that means Bokuto is up to something. The way his grin _just_ slips into peevish, the gentle raise of his shoulders, the tilt of his chin. Any second now he'll lean in and-

There it is.

Bokuto's face hovers, only a few inches away, tugging Akaashi forward by his hands until he's no longer rested against the balcony railing. The city lights dance in the ambers of his eyes, the world drops away beneath their feet, and Akaashi is very, very aware of himself. The sudden pounding of his heart against his ribs, the weird angle of his face, the very real possibility his hair is mussed beyond salvaging by the wind and party. It's been too many hours of joking with friends, of movies and cake, for him to look perfect enough to have Bokuto so close. 

Even if he had his hands free, though, he isn't sure he'd have the will power to push Bokuto away. He radiates warmth, from his body and smile - a warmth that always seems to draw him in. That always makes him do something stupid. There's a very real chance he is _far_ to into Bokuto for his own good. 

"So," Akaashi breathes, and it's barely that with how much of his attention is focused on Bokuto's face, on wondering if he's blushing, on Bokuto rubbing circles into the back of his hands, "are you going to give it to me now, or am I going to have to wait? It's nearly midnight. You're running out of time."

Bokuto laughs. It's too loud for how close they are, but Akaashi's so used to it he doesn't even flinch. "You've got a point. Guess there's no point waiting around any longer! Close your eyes, I'll give you it." 

Suspicion creeps into the corners of his mind, shading his expression with a frown. Bokuto is definitely up to something. Akaashi's next question comes out so flat he isn't sure it's a question anymore. "What did you get me."

"Aw, c'mon, Akaashi! I know that tone! Don't be so grumpy before you even know what it is. Trust me."

Another protest bubbles, and he thinks about voicing it, shoving Bokuto aside, but he wants the gift, just because it's Bokuto's. He wants to stay close, just because it's Bokuto. He knows Bokuto's won, because, in the end, Bokuto always wins - Akaashi can't help but let him. From the way Bokuto's eyebrows lower, he knows it, too. He always had a keen sense for victory.

"I trust you," Akaashi replies. Bokuto laughs, lighter this time. Akaashi closes his eyes.

Bokuto's hands leave his: not unexpected, as he'd need them to get the gift, but still an absence Akaashi doesn't like. He rubs them together on his own, trying to keep the warmth for a few moments longer. Bokuto shuffles in front of him. It must be small, whatever it is - small enough to keep on his person, to hide in a pocket, and forget about which one he put it in, considering how long-

He doesn't feel the movement in the air, or hear the shift in Bokuto's stance. There's nothing but the feeling of a warm hand against his chin, tilting his head upwards, inch by inch.

The light, fleeting pressure of lips against his. 

Akaashi's eyes shoot open before he can stop them. Bokuto's almost too close to focus on, barely a breath away. Akaashi finds he can't move, or think, really, beyond staring at Bokuto's curious face. His hand never leaves Akaashi's chin. His eyes never leave Akaashi's face. 

"Is this okay?" he asks, the question moving his mouth just enough for their lips to brush again. "If it's not, I can stop."

Akaashi doesn't trust himself to speak. He feels warm, not just from Bokuto leaning against him, not just from the heat in his cheeks. His ears fill with his own heart beat, with Bokuto's words, and he manages to mumble something that might be a reply, or only a strange, strangled noise from the back of his throat.

Whatever it is, it's enough to get Bokuto to kiss him again.

It's different, in a good way - the pressure steady, welcoming, warm. Bokuto's hand slips from Akaashi's chin to dig into his curls, pressing him closer, closer. His smile blends into the kiss, and though Akaashi doesn't know when, or how, he finds his own arms around Bokuto's neck, tugging him down, grabbing fistfuls of hair as he refuses to let go. Bokuto pulls back once, twice, never far or for long, only enough for them to catch their breath, for the heaving in their chests to slow down, before returning, each kiss deeper, longer, than the one before.

Akaashi isn't sure how much time passes before he draws away, only able to shuffle back a step before the cold metal railing bites his back through his sweater. He loosens his grip, arms sinking to Bokuto's shoulders, clumps of hair tumbling down from the two spiked points at the top of his head. Bokuto's chest rises and falls, rapid, his breath loud, pleased. Akaashi can't bring himself to look higher than his mouth, curled into a grin. 

"I told you," Bokuto says, voice catching as his breath catches up to the rest of him, "I'm very good at presents." 

No retort comes to mind - there isn't much in his mind at all, still. His chest heaves as he tries to calm down, to process what happened, why it happened, _how_ it happened. He tries to shift his gaze down, away, but Bokuto's hand is there again, against his cheek, and against any remaining shred of judgment he has, Akaashi looks up. 

Bokuto's smile turns gentle. His head tilts, still too close, his breath hot on Akaashi's face. With his hair ruined he looks as messy as Akaashi feels, but carries himself with such confidence it's like he planned for it, wanted it. 

Maybe he had.

"How did you know?" Akaashi slides his fingers into his sleeves, twists the edges of them in his hands. "I wasn't... I mean I... I didn't think anyone knew. Especially you."

"Y'know, Akaashi, you're a lot of things, but you're not as good at hiding your feelings as you think you are." Bokuto drums his fingers, once, against Akaashi's cheek. Akaashi glares, shoving the hand away, not as rough as he should. It returns moments later, and he lets it. "I'm pretty sure everyone we know knows. Why do you think no one's come out here and bothered us in twenty minutes?"

"Because they're relieved you're no longer singing off key." The remark slides out of his mouth before he processes it, and he winces, but Bokuto throws back his head to laugh. He returns, moments later, pressing his forehead against Akaashi's, both hands cupping his face. 

He stays there for a long moment, breathing, smiling. The next kiss is fleeting, barely there, and Akaashi stands on his tiptoes to make it last an extra second. Bokuto lets go of his face as he sinks down, pulling him into a hug that's almost too tight, like all his hugs are. Akaashi threads his arms around Bokuto's neck again and decides to never let go. 

"So... what do you say?" Bokuto's voice floats down, muffled as he places his face into Akaashi's hair. "Will you be my boyfriend?"

Akaashi doesn't think he needs to answer, but he holds on tighter, presses his face closer all the same. "Of course."

"Happy-"

"Don't wish me a happy birthday again, Bokuto. I'm aware this is my present. I figured it out." Irritation laces his voice, and he feels Bokuto's laugh rattle his chest. He smiles, small and private. "Just kiss me."

Bokuto does.


End file.
